Book 3: The Man in the Cave

Roach

The rat will not escape this time. I will make sure of that.

As it scurries across the bones of its predecessors, I lay in wait, ready to pounce.

It rounds a stalagmite and disappears for a moment. Then I see its pink nose and long whiskers twitch out to sniff the air.

I don’t move. I don’t want it to see or smell me.

The rat begins to skitter forward.

I settle back onto my haunches, ready to spring. Three… two….

“Hello in there!” a voice calls.

The rat squeaks and runs away.

I growl and pad over to see the newcomer, baring my teeth in my wolf form. He just cost me my dinner.

The man steps inside my cave, which is a mistake. No one but me is allowed in my cave. I snarl at him and snap at his ankles.

He jumps back, swearing. “Sir, I’ll ask you kindly not to do that again. I am a soldier of Warfang. There have been complaints about you in the village.”

Ah, the village, where they call me ‘Ro